Ship of Pain

I wake to the sound of a tortured scream followed by a voice riddled with terror. “No, I don’t want to die,” a man shrieks in undeniable pain.

***

The man to my left groans and his arm falls from the mattress. Blood trickles from his nose, eyes, and ears. The angels have come for him. But are they angels? Or are they demons, stealing our souls from our bodies?

Runaway

At the crest of the incline, the windows in a dark, gloomy mansion seemed to stare down at them. The very sight of the huge house made her want to jump out of her skin.

***

Donna woke with a start. She’d been dreaming about a hideous monster hiding upstairs, watching her and Ernie through the cracks in the ceiling.

***

Donna place an ear by Ernie’s mouth. Desperate wheezing escaped him, followed by an onslaught of gibberish. His face tightened; his lips trembled. Barely audible, he whispered, “Leave . . . g-get out . . . before it’s too late.”

***

“Animals don’t cut throats or rape people,” Hawkins murmured.

***

“Once a runaway, always a runaway.” Hawkins slammed and locked the cell door; the sound of it escalating her horror. “Maybe you ought to start thinking about the consequences next time you plan on taking off.”

***

Deputy Larry Anderson and Donna stepped into the entryway, the light from the fireplace dissipating. Larry kept a steady stride, his gun aimed forward, his broad shoulders held back. Turning his head toward Donna, he whispered, “From now on, don’t say a word.”

Night Watch

Tony opened the door and stepped into the night. A full moon glowed through the thick cloud cover. A mild ocean breeze cooled his face as a sense of gloom overcame him. Red’s right. I don’t belong here. I need to move on.

***

The staircase loomed before him, a skeletal and nightmarish structure. It felt as if is should be slithering into the ceiling like a python on the prowl for its next victim.

***

Stunned, Tony lowered the binoculars. The sight of the man disintegrating engraved itself into his mind. Had he lost his sanity? Even after Roxanne disappeared, he hadn’t suffered hallucinations.

***

Even in the daylight he found the cemetery intimidating. He recalled how for the briefest moment the gates had changed into some sort of demonic entity, its eyes an image from a drug-induced nightmare.

***

A flood of revulsion swept through Tony. “I loved her! More than anything. I’ll always love her! I’m not capable of killing anyone!”

A thin smile spread across Sarge’s face. “Not from what I just saw.”

***

A profound silence fell upon the cemetery. Tony tried to stand but couldn’t. Wheezing, he dropped the gun; his blood had pooled on the ground.

The Cellar

Finally she broke the silence. Again her voice came through loud and clear. “That’s what I said. He’s a werewolf. A no-good werewolf.”

Stephen leaned back and wished he’d never answered the phone.

“And I want him out of my house. The moon’s full tonight and I’m too damn old to play nursemaid!”

***

To his left Stephen spotted an elderly woman, staring in a most peculiar manner, watching him from her window. Something about her expression gave him an unsettling feeling, as if she were scrutinizing a particularly gory roadkill.

***

“A second howl then echoed through the forest. Helm spotted a dark figure running on two legs, ducking behind a tree.”

***

“From his first night in the forest, Razmanakov had been cautious of wolves. This was their territory, and they ruled without mercy.”

***

“Again and again she stepped back until she was cornered against the kitchen wall. The creature kept advancing, its front limbs held forward, its claws spread wide.”

***

A dark silhouette stood motionless, half-hidden behind the open staircase. Petrified, the social worker’s heartbeat quickened. As his eyes adjusted, the figure came into focus.

Zander’s Box

John Zander jumped off his recliner, still hearing Jim’s desperate voice. Shuddering, he understood. It wasn’t a nightmare: rather it was their psychic connection, still powerful after all these years. He knew what to do: pack, get out of the house, and risk his life finding his twin brother.

***

The airborne pathogen, nicknamed the “Doomsday Plague,” had turned D.C. upside down and into its own personal epicenter, complicating John’s arrival. The city had been shut down and authorities were likely to turn him away.

***

Gunfire sounded. A rock shattered the windshield, transforming everything before him into a kaleidoscope of distorted images.

Birds of a Feather

It felt more than a bit eerie, but the man Derek had just made the richest sleaze ball in all of Nicaragua stared at him as if her were a dead man who had just nailed his own coffin shut.

***

Flashing her trademark smile, the one that had sold countless movie tickets, Gabrielle put her lighter to the paper and tossed it into an ashtray. The proper mood had arrived. She was prepared to seduce her husband, seduce him of one last memorable time.

***

Gabrielle’s eyes shot open the instant the bullet struck. Blood, bone and brain matter splattered onto her face and hair. Marty laughed. He couldn’t help it. She looked like an actress in a cheesy splatter flick.

***

Another sound of wings halted Gabrielle. Turning, she flailed her arms and Lucifer veered off. Shutting her eyes, she leaped forward, clearing the crystals and landed on her knees. With a fluttering of wings, the bird circled her.

***

“Given the nickname the devil bird for its notoriously violent behavior, few people alive today have ever encountered one. Plagued by superstition throughout Latin America, the devil bird is said to be . . . hoodoo . . . an extremely evil, vindictive creature.”

“Oh, I can vouch for that,” Gabrielle whispered . . .

Wreck of the Lady Lydia

Merrick’s crew scattered like panic-stricken mongrels, the fear of death gnawing at their bellies.

***

Moss signaled a halt, staring ahead in a most peculiar manner. Thinking he’d spotted something dangerous, Alec peered in the same direction. Shock, denial, and dread suddenly blindsided him. Approximately 250 feet in the distance rested the barely perceptible silhouette of a ship, complete with a single mast.

***

Killing the engine to his seaplane, Moss came to a halt fifty yards from Dark Island’s rickety pier. There would be no tourists out this way. Most of them had never heard of the place. It was one of the Bahamas’ best kept secrets, for plenty of reasons.

***

“Congratulations,” Blackmore sneered. “You’ve made a smart move. Your lives are gonna bump up to first class. Nothing but the best from now on.” He turned and rushed off, leaving Alec not only longing to wash his hand but disenchanted, as I he’s just sold his soul to a two-bit larcenist. Greed, it appeared, had caused him to bargain away both his integrity and his better judgment.

***

“Grandma Montego sat up and her eyes rolled back in her head. “Save yourself,’ she cried in a distorted voice, a voice that sounded as if she hadn’t spoken in months. All I could see were her parched lips, pallid face, and the whiteness of her eyes―an image, I thought from a world full of ghosts.

***

Gradually, Ron’s lamp revealed a foreboding image as they approached the ocean floor. Nearing the Lady Lydia renewed every facet of Alec’s uncertainties. He thought of her as a slumbering behemoth―a nightmare from the darkest corner of his mind . . .